YER A SPON-NEW CANK BETWEEN TH' EAWTHER AN'
TIM BOBBIN enters by his sell
beawt wig; grinnin' an' scrattin' his nob.
Good lorjus days whot wofo times ar' these,
Pot bos ar scant, and dear ar seawl an cheese,
Eawr Gotum guides us seely sheep dun rob,
Leys, taxes, customs, meyn our plucks to throb.
Yet awm war thrutcht between two arrant rogues;
For bigger skeawndrills never treedn' brogues
Than Finch an Stuart—strawngers to o' reet,
They rob'n Timmy ee'n ith' oppen leet.
This may me neaw, to cross these rascots ends,
To send agen to my owd trusty friends:
For truth is truth, tho't savors like a pun;
I'm poor, God wot!―
Tim.—My craps o' dun.
Book.—Whoo—who, whoo—who—whoo! Whot,
pleag't with' owd cumpany, rhyme an' poverty agen? Neaw eon th' dule
scant yo—aw thought yodn goo bank, for yoar sib to thoose Gotum tikes at
yo complen'n on so, an ar neer satisfy'd.
Tim.—Whooas tat? tee owd friend? aw thought
theawd bin jauntin it like hey-go-mad, withoose foster feythers o' thine,
Stuart, Finch, an' Schofield, o' Middlewich.
Book.—Nay belady no I; awd scorn't tutch sitch
powsements with tungs.
Tim.—Whau, boh hastono yerd ot tat creawse tike
Stuart, an' clummeryeds Finch an' Schofield, han
don'd oytch on 'em a bantlin i'three o'the kest-off jumps, an thinknt' put
Yorshar o' foke. It's sitch wark as tis at meys met' scrat
wheer aw donna itch; Yersto meh?
Book.—Yigh, yigh awve yerd ont; bo' nick o 'ride
humstridd'n o' beggin, o' thoose at conno tell a bitter bump fro a
gillhooter, say I.
Tim.—Eh lack-a-day! Belike theaw dusno
know at thoose at'n steyl win lie; an 'at teyn may no bauks o' tellin foke
at teiers is th' reet breed o' bandyhewits; an' to clench it they'n show
ther whelps i'th owd petch-wark jump, an heaw then?
Book.—Nay this is a cutter too-too! a wofo
blessin' indeed! Bo' ister no way o'comin meet wi' 'um? 'sflesh,
aw'd rhyme onem or summut—ye' r ust 'at yo cud'n ha rhymt.
Tim.―Odds fish! they're partly like carron crows
mon; they're no worth meh shot.
Book.—But, hark yo; tell meh one thin; dun yo
aim at sendin' meh eawt agen on another tramp?
Tim.—Wuns, eigh; theawrt likt' strowl agen, as
sure as a tup's a sheep.
Book.—Odzo then, whether th' ullerts ar worth
shot or no' awd hav a push at piggin ivi paid forth' gerthin'; Do yo clap
some pleagy rhymes o'th neb o' meh cap, i' plain print hond, at oytch body
may see em shus wheer aw coom.
Tim.—Ave did berm op some rhymes o'top o'th sign
before Stuart shop i' Wiggin, bo' they're sitch rackless dozenin' gawbies,
at aw think a sharp redwhot whotyel wudno' prick a pirate conscience; for
theyn noather feelin', shame, nor grace.
Book.—Doo as aw bid yo for wonst, let 't leet
heave 't will.
Tim.—Whau, wi' o' meh heart; bo' howd, lemisee;
it's noan so good t' begin o' rhymin' at aw see on;—hum—neaw fort.
Robbins a trade that's practis'd by the great,
Our ruling men are only th—es of state.
Book.—Howd, howd, howd, 'th Dickons tak yo.
Aw see whot's topmost; yo'n be hong'd or some mischief, an' then o'll be
whoo-up wi' yo i'faith.
Tim.—Not i' Goddil belike!—dusto think so?―Sblid,
bo' aw hate hongin',—dothee set agate then.
Book.—Whau, aw'll begin o' thisn' then.
It's whiff-wall Stuart,―snifterin' Finch yo' known
Virtue has laft o'—truth is fro' o' flown!
Pirates a name―
Tim.—Whot te dule art woode. Whot'lt doo
wi' this whiffo-whaffo stuff? dust think rhyme mun olis tawk stump
Book.—Eigh, why not', let 'em speyke greadly as
we dun, i' God's-num.
Tim.—Nay, nay, ittleno doo; "tomiteh ov owt's
good for nowt;" heawe'er, i'ft woud hav 'it' myen someheaw o' thatn,
theydn bettert be o' thisn:—
Ah, doughty Stuart! worthy Finch! you know,
Virtue's a bubble,—honesty a show!
Pirate's a name, you'r not asham'd to own,
Though this and footpad, unto Tim's, all one.
Such men as these, for gaining of a groat,
If screen's by law—would―
Neaw by th' maskins, iv aw binno fast!
Book.—Then yo'r fast wi' a little i'faith, for
aw con loce yo' i' that poynt.
Tim.—Lemmeh see—ho, neaw aw haight; its be,
"Slash their neighbour's coat."
Book.—Nay byth' lord Harry shall it no, iv aw
mun rule; for its be,
"Cut their neighbour's throat."
Tim.—Whau, whau, wi' o' meh heart; bo' let
Stuart, Finch an' Schofield, thoose bell weathers, an' Hitch
an' Haws, they sheepish followers, lay they sows together, an' tae which
they likn best.
Book.—Well! it's cliverly rhymt o'Tim heawe'er,
let 't be whether it will. Whot an awf war I t' pretend to rhyme
Tim.—Well, bo', ween had enough o' this froythy
matter; let's tawk o' summut elze; an' furst tell meh heaw theaw went on
i'the last jaunt?
Book.—Goo on belady! aw cudha gon on weantly, an
bin awhom agen wi' crap i'meh slop in a sniff, iv i'dno met at oytch nook
thoose bastertly whelps sent eawt be Stuart, Finch an'
Tim.—Pooh!—aw dunno myen heave foke harbortn or
cutternt oer'the, bo' whot thoose fawse Lunnoners sedn abeawtte jump ats,
Book.—Ho, ho, neaw aw haight; yo myen'n thoose
lung seeted foke, at gloorn secont time at books; an' whooa aw'r fyert
would rent web jump to chatters.
Tim.—Reet men, reet; that's it.
Book.—Why, to tell yo true, awr breed wi' agorse
waggin; bo' they took'n meh i'th reet leet to a hure.
Tim.—Heawr tat i' God's-num?
Book.—Why at yoadn don'd meh a this'n, like a
meawntebank foo for th' wonst, to mayth rabblement fun.
Tim.—Eh law! he awdid'n the awvish shap, an' the
pecklt jump, pan sed'n the?
Book.―Eigh, eigh, primely i'faith!—for the
gloortn sour at meh; turnt'n meh reawnd like a tealier when he mezurs foke;
chukt meh underth chin, gameh a honey-butter cake, an' sed'n openly, they
ne'er saigh an awkert look, a quere shap, an' a pecklt jump, gree better
Tim.—Neaween fair-fo 'em, say I; theese wurn th'
boggarts at flayd'n the. Bo' awd olis a notion 'at tearn no
Book.—Gonnoryeds! nowe, nowe, nottey marry!
Bo' aw carrid mehsel meetly meeverly too, and did as yo bid'n meh.
Tim.—Theaw towdem the tele; an' sed th' rhymes
an o' didto?
Book.—Th' tele, an' th' rhymes? s'flesh, aw
believe aw did; bo' aw know no moor onem neaw than a seawkin' pig.
Tim.—Od-rottle the, whot sesto? hasto forgetn th'
tealier find'in th' urchon? an' th' rhymes?
Book.—Quite! quite! as' I hope to chieve.
Tim.—Neaw, een the dule steawndte say I! whot a
fuss mun aw hav to teytchem the agen.
Book.—Come, come, dunno fly op in a frap; a body
condo carry eytch mander o'thing i'ther nob.
Tim.—Whau, bomind neaw, theaw gawmblin' tike,
otto con tell th' tele an' sayth' rhymes berote titely.
Book.—Fear meno, sed doton; begin.
Tim.—A tealier i' Crummil time, wur thrunk pooin'
turmits in his pingot, an fund an urchon ith' had-loont-ryen; he glendurt
at't lung boh cou'd may nowt on't. He whoavt his whisket oe'rt, ran
whoam, an towd his neybours he thowt ot he'd funde a thing at God newer
made eawt; for it had nother yed nor tale, hont nor hough, midst nor eend!
Loath t' believe this, hawve a duzz'n on em woud goot see if they coudn
mey shift t' gawm it, bo' it capt em; for they newer o one on um ee'r
saigh th' like afore. Then theyd'n a keawnsil, anth' eend out wur,
ot teyd'n fotch a lawm, fawse, owd felly; het an elder, at coudn tell
oytch think, for they looknt on him as th' hammil-scoance, an thowtn he'r
fuller o leet than a glow-worm. When theyd'n towd him th' kese, he
stroakt his beyrt, sowght, an ordert' th' wheel-barrow with spon-new
trindle, t' be fotcht. 'Twur dun, and they beawlt'nt him away toth'
urchon in a crack. He glooart at't a good while; droyd his beyrt
deawn, an wawtut th' urchon o'er wi' his crutch. "Wheel meh obeawt ogen,
oth' tother side," sed he, "for it sturs, an be that it shou'd be whisk."
Then he don'd his spectacles, steart at't agen, on sowghing sed: "Breether,
its summot: boh Feather Adam nother did, nor cou'd kersun it.—Wheel me
Book.—I remember it neaw weal enough, bo if
theese Viewers coudn gawm it, oytch body coudn'; for I find heaw ot yo
comparn me too an urchon, at has noather yed nor tele: 'sflesh is not it
like running me deawn, an a bit too bobbersome?
Tim.—Nowe, nowe, naw it, for mony foke woudn
gawm th' rimes, but very lite woudn understond th' tealier and his urchon.
Book.—'Th rhymes—hum—le me see—'sblid, I
foryeat'n thoose too, aw deawt!
Tim.—Whoo-who whoo! whot a dozening jobber-know
Book.—Good lorjus o'me, a body conno doo moor
thin the con; con the? Bo if yo'n teytch um me agen, an I foryeat
um, een raddle meh hoyd titely, sey I.
Tim.—Mind to hits then.
Some write to shew their wit and parts,
Some shew you Whig, some Tory hearts,
Some flatter Knaves, some Fops, some Fools,
And some are M――st――l
Book.—Eigh marry, oytchbody seys so—and
gonnoryeds they are for then labbor.
Some few in Virtue's cause do write,
But these alas! get little by't.
Book.—Indeed I con believe yo. Wheel rim't
Some turn out maggots from their head,
Which die, before their Author's dead.
Book.—Zeawns! o' Inglanshoyr'll think at
yoar glenting at thoose fratchin, byzen, cradinly tykes, at writ'n sitch
papers osth' Test; an sitch cawf-teles as Cornish Peter, at
fund a new ward, snying weh glums an gawries.
Some write such sense in prose and rhime,
Their works will wrestle hard with time.
Book.—That will be prime wrostling i'faith,―for
I've yard um sey, time conquers o' things.
Some few print truth, but many lies,
On spirits—down to butterflies.
Book.—Write abeawt boggarts—an th' tother ward—an'th
more ith' moon, an sitch like geer:—Get eendwey; its prime rhyme i'faith.
Some write to please, some do't for spite,
But want of money makes me write.
Book.—By th' miss th'owd story ogen, bo I think
at it's true—ittle doo—yo need'n rhyme no moore, for it's better in likly—Whewt
on Tummus an Meary.
ENTER TUMMUS AND MEARY,
TUM. Odds me Meary! whooa the dickons woudha thowt
o' leeting o' thee here so soyne this mornin'? Wheer hasto bin?
Theaw'rt o' on a swat, aw think; for theaw looks primly.
Mea. Beleemeh Tummus aw welly lost meh
wynt: for awve had sitch o'treawnce this mornin' as aw neer had eh meh
lyve. For I went to Jone's o Harry's o lung Jone's, for't borrow
their thible, to stur th' fur metry wi, an his wife had lent it to Bet
o'my Gronny's; so aw skeawert eend-way, an' when eh coom there, hoo'd lent
it Kester o'Dick's, and th' brindl tearl, hea'd mede it int' shoos pegs!
Neaw woudno sitch o moon-shoyne traunce potter any body plucks?
T. Mark whot aw tell the Meary; for I
think th' lunger of fok liv'n an'th' moor mischoances they han.
M. Not olis o Goddil. But whot meys
yot'sowgh on seem so dane-kest? For I con tell yo I'm fens t' see yo
wick an hearty.
T. Wick an hearty too! Oddzo, but I
con tellthe whot, its moor in th' bargin at im oather wick or hearty, for
'twur seign peawud t'a tuppenny jannock, I'd bin os dyed as dur nail be
this eawer; for th' last oandurth boh one, me measter had lik't ah killt
meh: an just neaw, as shure as thee and me ar stonning heer, I'm actilly
runnin meh country.
M. Why, whot's bin th' matter? hanyo foan
eawt wither measter?
T. Whot! there's bin moort' do in a
gonnort drop, I'll uphowd tey! For whot dust think? bo'th' tother
day boh yusterday, uz lads moot'n ha' a bit on a hallidey, (becose it wur
th' Circumspecsion onner Ledey I believe) yet we munt do some odds-an-eends;
an I munt oather bryed mowdywarp-holes or gut' Rachdaw weh a keaw an a
why-kawve—neaw, loothe Meary, I'r lither; an had a mind on a jawnt: so I
donn'd meh Sundey jump, o' top o' meh singlet, an wou'd goa with keaw on
th' kawve; and the dule tey o bad luck for me, for eawer bitch Nip went
wimmey, on that mede ill wurr.
M. I connaw gawm heaw that coud mey ill
T. Now, nor no men elze till they known;
boh here's a fine droy canking pleck under this thurn, let's keawer us
deawn oth yearth a bit, an I'll tell the o' heaw't wur.
M. Weh o' meh heart, for meh Deme's gon
fro whoam, on hoo'll no com ogen till baggin-time.
T. Whau, as I'r tellin the, I'd gut'
Ratchdaw: so I geet up be skrike o day, an seet eawt; an went ogreath,
till i welly coom within two mile oth teawn; when as the dule would haight,
a tit wur stonnin at an eleheawse dur, an meh kawve took th' tit for it
mother, an wood need sewk hur: an aw believe th' foolish twod of a tit
took th' kawve for hur cowt, hoo whinnit so when hoo saigh it; boh when
hoo feld it seawke, hoo up with hur hough on kilt meh kawve os dyed as a
M. E Lord!—whot o trick wur that!
T. Trick! Odds flesh, sitch o trick
wur newer pleyd i' Inglonshoyr.
M. Why, hark yo Tummus, whot cudn yo doo
weet? Yoad be quite brok'n.
T. Doo! what cou'd i do? 'flesh in't had bin
kilt greadly, twou'd ha bin as good vyel os e'er deed on a thwittle; for
meh measter moot ba had seignteen shillin an susepence for't th' yeandurth
M. Yo didna lyev it ith' lone?
T. Ney Meary; I'r naw sitch a gawby os tat
coom too noather; for as luck wou'd haight, a butcher wur ith' eleheawse,
an he coom eawt when he yerd meh kawve bah: boh estid o being soory, when
he saigh it sprawlin oth' yerth, th' fly'ring karron seet up a gurd o
leawghin, an cou'd for shawm tell meh he'd berry it meh for a pint o' ale.
M. Whau, that wur pratty chep; for Dicky
o' Wills o'l Jone's o' Sam's, towd meh, at he berrid a chilt tother dey at
Ratchdaw, an he paide Jo. Green a groat for a greav no bigger nor a
T. Whau, that moot be; but I'd naw geet
him, for I borrod a shoo, an wou'd berrit meh seln, I'r thrunk shoaving it
in, when a thowt coom int' meh noddle, ot th' hoyde cou'd be no wur, so
I'd flee it; but th' dule a thwittle wurt' be leet on bo'th' butcher's,
on'th spoytfoo tyke wou'dno lyend it meh. Neaw Meary, whot cou'd
onny mon doo?
M. Doo! I'st ha gon stark woode.
T. I believe ot wou'd, or onny mon elze; boh
that wou'd doo nowt i'my kese, so bargint with th' rascot; he'r to teyth'
hoyde grooing toth' carcass, an gi meh throtteen pence; so I geet th'
brass, an went eendwey with keaw.
M. Neaw meh mind misgives meh ot yoar'n
gooin a sleeveless arnt: an at felly wudno tak'th' keaw beawt'th kawve.
T. Uddzo, Meary! theaw geawses within two
tumbles ov a meawse; for it wur lung, an lunger, ofore he wou'd; boh when
I towd him heawt wur knocht oth sow, with a tit coak'n as i'coom, and at
he moot order wi meh measter obeawt it, he took her ot lung length.
Then I went an bowt two peawnd o sawt, an an eawnce of black pepper for
eawer foke, an went toart whom agen.
M. With a fearfoo heavy heart I'll
T. Eigh, eigh—; that's true—boh whottle to
say when ot eh tell the, 'th butcher ne'er berrid th' kawve, boh sowd it i'
Owdum that oandurth, for tuppence haw penny a peawnd!
M. Say! why be meh troth it wur fair chettin:
but it's meet like their rascotly tricks, for there's not an honest bwon
ith hoyde o' newer a greasy tyke on um o'.
T. Indeed Meary, I'm i'the mind: for it
wur reet rank; boh I think i'meh heart at rascots ith' ward ar as thick as
wasps in a hummobee-neest.
M. Its not tell, buh I'st marvel straungely an
yo leet'n on a wur kneave nor this.
T. Alack a dey! theaw knows bo little oth
matter. Boh theawst yet—Idno geet'n forrud back ogen, aboon a mile
or so, afore eh saigh a parcel o lads an hobblety-hoys, as thrunk as Thrap
wife; when ot eh geet too um, I coudna gawm what tearn obeawt; for two on
um carrid a steeigh o' then shilders, another had a riddle in his hont, an
Hal o' Nabs ith' Midge-lone had his knockus lapt in his
barmskin; awth' rest on um had hoyts, or lung kibboes, like swingin sticks
M. Ith' name o Katty, whot wur'n the for?
T. Nowt ots owt theaw mey be sure, if that
hawmpoin tyke Hal wur wi'um; Neaw theaw mun know, ot one neet last shearin-time,
when Jone's o Harry's geet'n their churn, this same scap-gallows,
wur taen i cheer pleawmtree, an wur eh snitch a flunter i' gettin deawn
agen, at he feell, on broke th' collarbown on his leg,
M. A wrang joynt hong him; I know him weel
enough, for the last great snow heer for hongin a hare i' some hure
gillers, an he throttlt eaw'r poor Teawzer in a clewkin-grin.
T. Th varra same――So
I asht him whot tearn for? Why, sed he, ween meet neaw seen an eawl
fly thro' yon leawp-hoyle into th' leath, an weer gooint tay hur, Come Tum
(sed he) egad, iftle goo with us, theawst see sitch gam os theaw newer
saigh i'the lyve; beside theawst howd th riddle.—Sed I, I knowno whot to
myens be howding th' riddle, boh aw'll goo wi' o' meh heart intle teytch
meh; I con show the in a crack sed he. So away we want'n, an begun a
crommin o'th leawp-hoyles, an th' slifters ith leath woughs full o' awts;
then we reeart'n th' steeigh softly agen th' wough under th' eawl hoyle.
Neaw lads (sed Hal) mind yur hits; I'll lap meh bonds i meh barmskin ot
hoo cannon scrat meh when ot i'tak ur ith' hoyle; Tum o' William's
mun climb th' steeigh, thrutch th' strey eawt oth leawphoyle, on howd the
riddle cloyse on't. Awth' rest mun be powlerers, an flay hur into't.
So awey they seetn into th' leath, on toynt dur on I――
M. Why neaw, I'll be far, if i'd naw reyther ha
seent in a puppy-show.
T. Good Lorjus, Meary! theawrt so hasty; so I
glum th' steeigh in o snift, shoavt th' awts eawt, an smackt me riddle oth'
hoyle. I'd no soyner done sooa, but I yerd one on um say: "see o,
see o, hoos teer!"—"Shu," sed one; "shu," sed another—then they o begun o
hallowin an whoopin like hey go-mad. I thowt it wet rear'st spooart
ot ewer mortal mon saigh; so I gran, an I thrutcht, till meh arms wartcht
ogen; still they kept'n shuin, an powlerin ith leath; an then I thowt I
feld summot nudge th' steeigh—I lookt deawn, on there were an owd soo
bizzy scratting hur ribs o one o'th strines. 'Sflesh, thinks it' meh
seln, hool ha me deawn eend near. Just then I thowt I yerd th' eawl
come into the hoyle; an presently summot come with a greyt flusk thro th'
M. Odds mine! an didney let hur gooa or yo
T. Took'n hur! Nay Meary; an eawl's
naw so soyne tean—boh I con hardly tell the, I'm――so
waughish――for I'm readyt cowk'n with th'
thowts ont; there wur nont' tay Meary.
M. Whot no eawl?
T. Now, now,—not teear—it wur nowt ith ward o'
God, boh arron owd lant ot theyd'n mede war wi puttin durt in't: an that
hodge podge coom i' me fase wi sitch a ber, at a sumheaw it made meh meazy,
an I feel off th' steeigh; boh moor be choance thin onny good luck, I leet
disactly oth' soo, web sitch o soltch, at aw think i' meh heart ot hoor
bwoath wur flay'd an hurt in I wur.
M. Eh Lord! whot a wofoo foe had'n yo?
T. Eigh, foe eigh; for I thowts id brok'n th'
crupper-booan o' meh rump, boh it wur better in likly; for I'd no hurt boh
th' tone theaw stunnisht, an th' skin bruzz'd off th' whirl-booan o' meh
knee, at mede meh t'hawmpo a bit.
M. Awt upon um, whot unmannerly powsements!
I'st ha bin stark-giddy at um, an ha riddlt ther bwons.
T. I'r as woode as teaw cou'd be, or onny moon
elze, boh theaw knows ev'ry mon' is no a witch; heaweer I hawmpo't reawnd
th' leath fort' snap some oth bullockin basturts, boh none cou'd eh leet
on, for they're o' crop 'n intoth leath, an th' durs as safe as Beest'n
Castle; boh they mead'n me't yet um ifaith, for thear'n o' wherryin an
leawghin, whoopin on sheawtin, like maddlocks at then new tean eawl, as
teh cawd'n meh. Wuns, Meary! in id had foyer I'st ha set th' how
leath on a halliblash in id deed for't; boh then th' soo kept sitch o
skrikin reckin din, as if hur back wur iteaw i' two spots, at I durst stay
no lunger for fear o' sumbody commin, an meyin me necessary to hur dyeth;
so I scampurt awey as hard as I cou'd pinn. An run a mile i' that
pickle afore I ga one glent behind meh. Then aw leep o'er a ris'n
hedge, an as a rindle o' wetur wur wheem, aw wesht o' meh clooas, till it
coom to meh hure, an o' little enoof too; for aw think imeh heart awst
stink like a foomart while meh names Tum.
M. Neaw een bimeh troth, aw thowt yo favortn
fearfo strung ov a yarb. Boh when o's done Tum mus, this killin oth
kawve, and eawl catchin wur none olung o Nip.
T. Odds heart; howdte tung Meary, for I
oather angert some he-witch, or the dule threw his club o'er meh that
mornin, wheni' geet op; for misfortins coomn on meh as thick as leet.
M. Uddzlud; none through Nip, o Goddil.
T. Through Nip: yigh through Nip; an aw wood hur
neck had bin broken i' nine spots when hoor whelpt, for me (God forgi' meh;
the deawn cretur's done no hurt noather) for awd no' greadly wesht an
fettlet meh, an lipp'n intoth lone agen, boh aw met a fattish dowin felley
in a blackish wig, an he stoode an glooart at Nip. Quo he, honist
mon, wilt sellthe dhog? Sed I, meh dhog's a bitch, an so's neer a
dhog ith teawn. For bimeh troth Meary, awr as cross as an ex.
M. Odd, boh yourn bobbersome, an onsert him
T. Well, boh dhog or bitch, sed th' felley, iv
awd known on hur three days sin, awd ha ganthe twenty shillin for hur, for
aw see hoos a reet stawnch Bandyhewit; an thears a gentlemen at wooans
abeawt three mile off, at wants one meet neaw.—Neaw, Meary, to tell the
true, awd a mind t' chet, (God forgi meh) and sell him meh sheep cur for a
Bandy hewit, thou aw no moor knew thin th' men ith' moon whot a Bandyhewit
wur. Whaw, sed I, hoos primely bred, for hur mother coom fro Lunnun,
tho' hoor whelpt at meh measter's; an tho hoos as good as ony i,
Inglonshoyer, awll sell bur iv meh price come.
M. Well dun Tummus; whot sed he then?
T. Whaw, quo he, whot dust ax for hur?
Hoos worth a ginney an a hawve o' gowd, sed I, boh a ginney awll ha for
hur. Quo he, aw gan a ginney for mine, an awd reyther ha thine bi a
creawn; boh ivtle gooa to Justice—Justice—hum —lemmi see—boh aw foyetn
heaw he's coad. (boh a greyt matter on him, for awd think he's a piece ov
a rascot as weel ash rest,) he'll be fain oth bargain.
M. That wur cliver too; wur itno?
T. Yigh, meeterly—Then I asht him whot way aw
munt gooa, an he towd meh. On away aw seet, wimi heart as leet as a
bit ov a fleigh, an carrid Nip unther meh arm,—for neaw theaw mun
untherstond aw'r fyert o' loysin hur, nere deawtin at aw coud be rich
enoof t' pay meh measter for the kawve, an ha summut t'spare.
M. Odds fish; boh that wur brave; yorn i'no ill
case neaw Tummus.
T. Whaw boh theawst yer. It wur a dree way
too, toth Justice heawse; heaweer, aw geet theer bi suse o'clock; an afore
eh oppnt th' dur, aw covert Nip with cleawt 'at eh droy meh nose wi', 'tlet
th' Justice see heaw aw stoart hur. Then aw oppnt th' dur, and whot
dost think? but three little bandyhewits, as aw thought em, coomn weawghin
as iv th' little rottns woudha worrid meh, an afther that swallud meh
wick. Then thur coom a fine fresh cullert woman, at keckt as stiff
as if hood swallud a poker, an aw took hur for a hoo Justice, hoor so
nicety fine.—For aw yerd Ruchot o'Jacks, o' Yems, tell meh measter
'at th' hoo justices olis didn mwost oth' wark;—heawere, I axt bur iv
Mester Justice wur awhom? Hoo cudno open bur meawth t'say aye or
nawe, boh simpert, an sed, iss, (th' Dickons iss hurr an him too.)
Sed I aw wudidn tell him awd fain spyek to him.
M. Odd, boh yoarn bowd. Ist habin
timmersome; boh let's know heaw yo wentn on.
T. Whaw, weel enoof; for theaw may Nip an chett,
as ill as one o' ther clarks, an theyn no meddle withe; boh theaw munno
frump nor tyes um, for they hatn t' beh vext.
M. Boh heaw wentn yo on? Wurth Justice
T. Eigh, eigh, an coom snap, an axt meh whoti'
wantud? "Whaw," sed I, "awve a very fine bandyhewit t'sell, an aw
yerd at yo wantud one, sur." "Humph!—sed he,―a
bandyhewit――prithe let's look at't."
Yigh, sed I, an aw pood th' cleawt off hur, stroakt hur deawn th' back, an
sed, hoos as fine a bandyhewit as ever ran afore a tail.
M. Well done Tummus! Yo cudno mend
tat, iv yo hadn it t'doo agen. Boh yoar fit t'goo eawt i'faith.
T. Hoos a fine un indeed, sed th' Justice, an
it's a theawsan pities boh awd known on bur yusterday, for a felley coom,
an aw bought one nosso good as this bi hawve a ginney, an awll uphowdtey,
theawll to a ginney for this. An that awll hav ivi cud lest ov a
chapmon, sed I. Hoos richly worth it, sed he; an aw think aw con
tellthe wheer theaw may part wi hur, iv he binno fittud oready.
M. Odds-like! boh that wur a good neyturt
Justice: wur he no?
T. Eh Meary, theaw tawks like a seely
ninney-hommer; for, tey meh wort fort, nowt ats owt con come ont, when a
mon dyels wi rascotly foke. Boh, as awr tellin the, he namt a felley
at wooant abeawt three mile off, (boh th' Dule forget him, as aw dun,) so
aw must gooa back agen, through Ratchda. Well, aw geet Nip unther
meh arm, made a scroap, wimi hough, an bid th' Justice good neet; wi a
heavy heart, theaw maybeh sure; an boh asi thought, i'coud ashelt sell hur
i'this tother pleck it woud sartinly ha brokn.
M. Lord bless us; it wur likt trouble yo meetily.
T. Boh theawst yer; awd no gone o'er aboon a
feelt or two, when aw coom to a great bruck, wi a feaw narrow, saplin'
brig o'er it. As it had raint th neet afore as iv th' welkin wudha
oppent, th' wetur wur bonk-full; though it wur fegger a dyel ith morning;
an o' someheaw, awr abeawt hawve o'er, meh shough slips, an deawn coom I
arsy-varsy, wi Nip imi arm i'th wetur. Nip aw leet fend for hurseln,
an flaskert tilli geet howd ov a sawgh, an so charrd mehseln, or elze
noather thee nor mon elze had ewer seen Tum agen; for by meh troth, awr
M. Good lorjus days! th' like war never.
This had likt ha shad o'th tother; an yet yo coomn far-rantly off marry,
for it wur a great marcy yo wurnno dreawnt.
T. Aw knowno whether it wur or naw; boh
theaw may be sure aw'r primely boyernt, an as west as ewer eh cud sye.
Beside awd no com to keme meh hure, so at aw lookt likker a dreawnt meawso
nor a mon.
M. Beside yoadn be as cawd as iccles.
T. Eigh, theaw may geawse awr none maughn.
Bob theawst yer. Awd no gone aboon a stone's thrut afore eh wundret
whotte pleague wur th' matter wimmi, for aw begant smart as iv five
hunthert pissmotes wurn imeh clooas. Aw loast em deawn, boh cud see
nowt at wur wick, and yet aw lookt as rey as a fleed meawse; sflesh! awr
readyt' gooa woode, an knewno whot eh ailt, an then I unbethought meh o'th
M. Eh, waes me! awd fryetn that too. Aw
deawt it would quite mar yo.
T. Nowe, nowe Meary; awr no quite mard.
It's true aw went wigglety wagglety for an eawer or so, afore awr ogreath
agen; an wheni gees reet, an coomt grope imeh singlit pockit for meh sawt,
th' dule a bit o' sawt wurther, for it wur o' run away; an neaw it jumpt
into meh mind at aw saigh two rottn pynots (hongem) at tis same brig as
M. Did ever! That wur a sign o' bad fortin;
for I yerd meh gronny say hood as leef ha seen two awd Harries as two
T. Eigh, so says meh noant Margit an many foke
beside. An I know at pynots ar as cunnin eawls as wawkn o' this
yearth. Bob, as awr tellin the Meary, whot with smart, an one thin
an another, awr so strackt woode at aw cudha fund imeh heart to punst th'
bitch guts eawt; an then I thought agen, "Nip's ino fawt." For
bemeh troth awr welly off at side.
M. Indeed Tummus, I believe yo; bo alack a day,
punsin th' bitch woudha bin reet rank.
T. That's true; boh theaw knows one conbo doo
whot tey con doo.
M. Reet; boh heaw didn yo wiyur weet clooas?
wurnno yo welly parisht?
T. Yigh bimeh troth; aw dithert till meh teeth
hacknt imeh yed agen. Bob that wurno o'; it begant be dark, an awr
beawt scoance, in a strawnge country, five or suse mile from whom, so at
aw manodert i'th filds aboon two heawrs, an cudno gawm wheer iwur, for aw
moot as weel ha bin in a oon; an iv awd held op meh hont, aw cud no moor
ha seent thin icon see a fleigh o'thee neaw; an heer it wur aw geet into
a-gate. For aw thought aw yerd summut comin, an iv truth munbeh
spokken, awr so fearfully flayd, at meh yure styode on eend, for theaw
knows aw noather knew whooa nor whot it moot be.
M. True Tummus; no marvil at yo wurn so fleyd,
it wur so fearfo dark.
T. Heaweer I resolvt t'mayth best ont, an up speck I:
"Whooas tat?" A lad voyce onsert in a cryin din, "Eh law, dunno tay
meh! dunno tay meh!" Nawe, navve, sed I, awll no' tathe belady;
whooas lad arto? Whau, sed he, awm Jone o' Sall, o' Simmy, o' Mariom,
o' Dick, o' Nethon, o' Sall, o' Simmy i'th Hooms lad; an awm gooin whom.
Odd, thinks I t'mehseln thews a dreer name thin me; an here Meary I cudno
bob think whot lung names sum on us han; for thine an mine are meeterly,
boh this lad name wur so mitch dree-er at aw thought it dockt mine th'
M. Preeyo neaw, tell meh heaw theese lung names
T. Um—um—um; lemeh see—aw conno tell the greadly;
boh aw think they'r to tell foke by.
M. Well, an heaw didnyo goo on wi th' lad?
T. Then (as I thowt he tawkt so awkertly) I'd ax
him for th' wonust whot uncuths he'd yerd sturrin? I yerd noan, sed
he, but at Jack o' Neds towd meh at Sam o' Jacks o' Yeds, Marler, has wed
Mall o' Nans, o' Salls o' Pegs, at gwos obeawt beggin churnmilk, with
pitcher with lid on. Then I asht him wheer Jack o' Neds wooant?
Sed he, he's prentice wi Isaac o' Tims o' Nicks, o'th Hough-lone; an he'd
bin at Jammy o' Georges o Peters, i'th Dingle, for hawve, a peawn o'
treacle t' seawsn a beest puddin wi'; an his feyther an moother wooant at
Rossenda, boh his gronny wur alyve, an wooant wi' his noant Margit,
i'Grinfilt, at pleck wheer his nown moother coom fro. Good lad, sed
I, boh heaw far's Littlebrough off? for I aimt see it toneet iv i'con hit
it. Sed t'lad, its obeawt a mile, and yo mun keep streight forrud o'
yur lift hont, an yoan happen do. So a thatn we partud, boh aw
mawkint an lost meh gate agen snap; an aw powlert o'er gates and steels,
hedges an doytches tilli coom to this Littlebrough; an heer, awr ill breed
agen, for aw thought awd seen a boggort, it proovt to be a mon wi a piece
woo, restin him on a stoop i'th lone. As soon as eh caud spyek for
whackerin I asht him wheer they wur an aleheawse? an he showd meh. I
went in, an fund at two fat throddy foke wurn teer, an some o'th warst
fratchin cumpany at eer eh saigh, for theyrn warryin, bannin, an coe-in
one another leawsy eawls as thick os leet. Heaweer aw pood a cricket
an keawert meh deawn i'th nook at side o'th hob. Awd no soyner dun
so, boh a feaw sear looks felly wi a wythen kibbo at he had in his hont,
slapt a swort ov a wither-mezzilt faest mon sitch a thwang o'th scawp at
o' varra reecht agen, an deawn he coom o'th harstone, wi his yed i'th
esshole. His scrunt wig feel off, an a hontle o' wot corks feel
intot, an brunt an frizzlt it so, at when he awst to don it on it slipt
o'er his sow, an leet like a hawmbark on his shilders. Aw glendurt
like a stickt tup for fear ov a dust mehseln, an crope fur intoth chimley.
Oytch body thowt at mezzil faes woud may a flittin ont, an dee in a crack,
so sum on um crydn eawt, "a doctor, a doctor," while others maydn th'
lonlort go saddl th' tit to fotch one. While this wur idooin sum one
hadn leet ov a kin ov a doctor at wooant a bit off, an they showdn him at
the' mon o'th harstone. He laid howd ov his arm, to feel his pulse,
aw geawse, an pond as iv he'd seen dyeth pooin at th' tother arm, an wur
resolvt to oerpoo him. After lookin doekinly wise a bit he geet on
his whirly bwons an sed to um o' "while his heart byets, an his blood
carclates there's hope, boh when that stops, its whoa-up wi him i'faith."
Mezzil faes yerrin summut abeawt whoo-up, started to his feet, flote noan,
boh gran like a foomart dhow, an seet at black swarfy tyke wi bwoth naves,
an wawtut him o'er intoth galker full o' new drink at wur wurchin.
He began a possin an peylin him int' so, at o' wur blendud together snap.
Sflesh, Meary, theawd ha blesst the to ha seen heaw th' gobbin wur awtert
when they poodn him eawt agen, an whot a hob-thurst he lookt wi o' that
berm obeawt him. He kept droyin his een, boh he met as wheel ha
seawd um op till th' lonlady had made an heawers labbor on him at th'
pump. When he coom in agen he glooart awvisbly at Mezzil faes, an
Mezzil faes glendurt as wrytherly at him agen, boh noather on um warrit
nor thrapt. So they seetn um deawn, an then th' lonlady coom in, an
woud may umt' pay for th' lumber at teydn dun hur. "Meh drinks wur
beh a creawn," sed hoo; beside, theer's two tumblers, three quiftin pots,
four pipes masht, an a how pepper o' bacco shed." This mayd umt'
glendur at tone-tother agen; boh black tyke passion wur coolt at th' pump,
an th' wythen kibbo had quietnt tother, so at te cammd little or noan, boh
agreed pay o' meeon; then seetn um deawn an wurn friends in a shift.
M. This wur mad gaumblin wark, an welly as
ill as tayin th' eawl.
T. Nay, no' quite noather Meary, for berms
a how-some smell. Heaweer, when o' wur sattlt, aw crope nar th'
foyer agen; for awr wanted a warm fearfully, for awr bwoth cowd an weet,
as weel as hungry an droy.
M. Beleemy Tummus yo mootn weel be; boh
yoarn i'good kele too at yodn money i'yor pockit.
T. Eight, aw thowt awd money enoof, boh
theawst yer moor o'that in neaw. So aw coad for summut teat, an a
pint o' ale; an hoo browt meh some hogmuttn an special turmits, an as
prime vyel an pestil as need beh tutcht. I creemt Nip neaw an then a
lunshun, boh Tum took care o'th tother, steawp an reawp: for I eet like a
Yorshor-mon, an cleert th' stoo.
M. Well dun Tummus; yoadn sure need no
reesupper; for yo shadn wrynot, an slanst th' charges frowt aw yer.
T. True, so aw seet an restud meh, and
drank meh pint o' ale, boh as awr no greadly sleckt, aw coed for another,
an bezzilt tat too, for awr as droy as soot, an as twur tolate to goo ony
wither wi meh bitch I axt th' lonlady iv icud stay o' neet? Ho towd
mey aw moot iv iwoud. Sed I, awll goo neaw iv in goo wimeh? I
goo wi the, quo boo? Whot arto fyert o boggarts, or theawrt no'
weant yet an conno sleep beawt a pap? Sflesh, sed I, whot aryo
tawkin obeawt? Aw want gut bed. Ho-ho, iv that be o', sed hoo,
Margits show the. So Margits leet a candle, an showd meh a woisty
reawm, an a bed wi curtners forsooth. Aw thought Margit pottert au
fettlt lung i'th choamber afore hoo laft it, an aw mistrust at hoor meawlt
for a bit o' tusslin and teawin, boh o' someheaw awr so toyart an yealo at
awr ino fettle for catterweawin; so aw sed nowt too hur, boh aw
afterthought sin, for hoor no daggletail aw'll uphowdte, boh as snug a
lass as Sarah o' Rutchots eary bit.
M. Marry, kem-eawt! like enoof, why not?
Is Sarah o' Rutchots so honsum?
T. Eigh, hoos meeterly; heaweer when Margit wur
gone aw doft meh donk shoon an hoyse, an meh doge clooas, an geet int bed;
an i'truth Meary I newer lee i'sitch a bed sin i'wur kersunt.
M. Eh deer, Tummus. Aw cud ha likt
ha one oth same mack, I warrant yoadn sleep seawndly?
T. Nay, aw conno say at aw did, for awr
meetily trublt a beawt meh kawve. Beside awr fyert o' eawer foke
seechin meth, an meh measter bastin meh when igeet whom. It's true
meh carcuss wur pratty yezzy, boh meh mind met as weel ha line in a
pissmote hoyle, or in a rook o' hollins or gorses, for it wur one o'clock
afore icud toyne meh een.
M. Well, an heaw wentn yo on i'th mornin,
when yo wacknt?
T. Whau, as awr donnin meh thwoanish
clooas, aw thaught awll know heaw meh shot stons afore aw wear moor o' meh
brass o' brekfust; so when aw went deawn th' lonlady coom an kest it op to
throtteen pence. "So," thought I t' mehseln, "a weawndud dyel!
Whot strushon hav aw made heer! aw cudha fund mehseln a how week wi
us for that money; awst no have one boadlt' spare o' meh hoyde-brass."
An neaw awr in as ill a kele as meet-shad; wur ino?
M. Nowe marry, no' yo; iv Iddn made
strushon an bezzilt away moor brass nor yo hadn yo metn ha tawkt.
T. Aw find teaw con tell true to a hure
into will Meary; for, by th' miss, when ati coomt grope imeh slop t'pay
hour, awr weawndudly gloppnt, for th' dule a hawpenny hadi; an whetheri
lost it i'th bruck, or wi scrawmin o'er th' doytch-backs, aw no moor know
nor th' mon i'th moon. Buh gone it wur; aw steart like a wil-cat; au
wur welly gawmliss; an at last aw towd hur awd lost meh money. Sed
boo, "Whot dun yo myen mon? Yoastno' put Yorshur o' me. That
tale winno fit me; so yoar likt pay o' sum heaw." Sed I, "boh it's
true, an yomay grope imeh clooas an yo win" "Theawrt sum mismannert
jackanapes, awll uphowdte," sed hoo. "Nay, nay awst no' grope i'the
clooas, not I." "Whau," sed I, "yoar likt ha nowt then, beawt yoan
ta meh woollin mittins an meh sawt cleawt." Thosn no doo, sed hoo,
theyr no' bwoth worth aboon two groats. I nowt elze, sed I, beawt
yoan hameh sneeze urn, an awm loatht' part weet, becose Seroh o' Rutchots
gaight meh th' last Kessmuss. Let's see um, sed hoo; for theawrt sum
arron rascot I'll uphowdte. So aw gan um hur; an still th' broddlin
fussuck lookt as feaw as Tunor, when id done.
M. Good-lorjus-o'-me! I think yodn
th' warst luck at ewer kersunt soul had.
T. They'll say so in neaw. Well, awr
toyart o' that pleck, an crope away beawt oather bit, or sawp, or cup o'
sneeze; for aw gawmblt an leet tat gooa too. I soyne, heaweer, sperd
that gentlemon's hoe eawt, an wheni geet theer, aw gan a glent intoth
shippn, an seed a mon stonnin i'th groop. Sed I, is yur measter
awhom prayyo? Eigh, seed he; I woud I'dn fain speyk at him, sed I.
Yigh, sed he, that awll doo. So heer so soyner gwon boh a fine
fattish throddy gentlemen coom in a trice, an axt meh whoti wantud?
Sed I, aw understond at yo wantn a good bandyhewit sur, an ov a fine un
t'sell heer. Let's see th' shap on hur, sed he. So aw stroakt
hur deawn th' back, an cobbd hur o'th greawnd. Hoos th' finest at
ewer isaigh, sed he; boh I deawt at thingsn leet unlucky forthe, for aw
geet two this last week, an they mayn op meh ceawnt. Unneaw, Meary,
I'r reddyt' cruttle deawn, for theaw mootha knockt meh o'er wi a pea.
Boh whotste price? seed he. Aw conno thwooal hur t'meh nown broother
under a ginney, sed 'I. Hoos chep at tat, sed he; an no deawt boh
theaw may sell bur.
M. Odds-like. Yoarn lung i'findin a
chapmon. Oytch body'r olis fittut so.
T. Eight, fittut eigh; for they nedn noan,
no moor nor aw need wetur imeh shoon, not they. Then seed he, thurs
an owd cratchinly gentlemen, at wooans at yon heawse among yon trees, meet
anent us, at aw believe'll githe the price; iv not, justice sitch a one's
a likely chap, iftle gooa thither. Sed I, awr theer the' last
oandurth, an heed leet o' one th' yeandurth afore. That leet feawly
for thee, sed he. Eigh, sed I, so it een did, for aw mayd a peawer
o' labbor obeawt itawm sure. Well, boh this owd gentlemon's likyst
ov onny at I know, sed he; so awr mayd him meh manners, an seet eawt for
this tether pleck.
M. I hope idn ha better luck i'God's num.
T. Whau, aw thought icud too; for neaw it
popt int' meth mind at Nip didno howdy hur tail hee enoof, an at foke
wudno buoy hur becose o' that. Ivto hasno fryetn aw bowt two eawnces
o'pepper when id meh sawt, an the twur as thodd'n as a tharcake awd rub
hur rump we'et, for awd seen Oamfrey o' Matho's play that tutch by his
creaw tailt mare that day at Yeb o'th Redbonk coomt buoy hur. So
meet afore eh geet to th' heawse, I took Nip an rubd hur primely i'faith,
een till hoo yeawlt agen. Awr at th' place in a crack, an leet o'th
awd mon ossint' get o' tit back. Sed I too him, is yoar name Mester
Scar? Sed he, theawrt "oather gryev, or gryev-by," but aw gex awm
him at-to myens; whot wantsto wimeh? Awm informt, seed I, at yo
wantn a bandyhewit, an awve a tip top un imeh arms heer, as onny
i'Inglonshoyer. That's a great breed, seed he; but prithe lets
hondle hur abit, for ivi tutch hur aw con tell whether hoos reet bred or
M. Odd, bob that wur a meety fawse owd
T. Sflesh Meary, aw think imeh heart at heer th'
biggist rascot on um o'. Bob I leet him hondle hur, an heer so seely,
and his honds wackert so desprately at he cudno stick to hur, an hoo leep
deawn. Neaw fort, thought I; Nip cock the tail an show thesel; boh
istid o' that, hoo seet op a yeawl, clapt th' tail between hur legs, an
crope into a hoyle i'th horse-stone.
M. Fye on hur; awst habin as mad at hur as a
T. Whau, awr as mad as teaw cubbe, at hood
shawms hursel so wofully; heawe'er aw sed to th' owd mon, munni tak hur
agen? for voan find hoos no foo-goad ov bitch? Nowe, now, sed he; aw
feel hoos as fat as a snig, an as smoot as a mowdewarp; an aw find hoos as
plain as a pike staff; an beh hur lennock yers at hoos reet bred: an awd
had hur in hood cost meh a moidor, but at a frend has sent meh one eawt o'
Yorshor, an aw need no moor, boh awl swap withe into will? Nowe, sed
I, awll swap none; for awl oather have a ginney for hur or hoost never
gooa while meth yed stons o' meh shilders. Then aw con chaffer noan
withe, sed he. Boh hasto bin at yon fine biggin anent us? Eigh,
sed I, boh hees enoo on um. Well, boh they'r as scant neaw as ewer
they wurn i'this ward, sed he, an theer's one Muslin, i' Ratchda ats a
meety lover on um. Whau, sed I, awst go see. An neaw, Meary,
aw begunt mistrust at tearn mayin a foo on meh.
M. The firrups tak um; buh tey neer wurn belike.
T. Whau, boh hawd te tung abit an theawst yer,
for aw thowt awd try this tother felly, an iv heer gettn fittud too, awd
try no moor, for then it wud be as plain as Blacksunedge at tearn mayin an
arron gawby on meh. So aw went to Ratchda, an sperrd tis moon eawt,
I fund him at back oth shopbwort, wi a little dhog at side on him.
Thowt I, to mehseln, I wud teawr choakt; this felly'l beh fittut too.
Well, sed he, honist mon, whot dunyo plyest hav? I want nowt of yo
han, sed I, for awm comnt' sell yo a bandyhewit. Neaw, Meary, this
rascot, as weel as th' rest, roost meh bitch to th' varra welkin, but at
tat time, he didno want one.
M. Eh, dear me Tummus! aw deawt tearn
mayin a parfit neatril on yo.
T. A neatral? eigh, th' big'st at
ewer wurn made sin Cain kilt Abel. An neaw aw'r so strackt woode,
I'r arronly moydert an cudha fund imeh heart to jowd o'ther sows together.
Awr no soyner areawt boh a thryev o' rabblement wur watchin' on meh at dur.
One on um sed, this is him; another, hees heer; an one bastartly gullion
asht meh iv id sowd meh bandyhewit. By th' miss Meary, awr so angert
at tat, at aw up wi' meh gripp'n nave, an hit him a good wherrit oth yer,
an then, wi meh hough, punst him into th' riggot, an ill grimt an deet th'
lad wur forshure. Then they o' seet agen meh, an afore id gone a
rood th' lad mother coom an crope sawfly be-ind meh, an' geet meh byth'
hure, an deawn coom Nip an me ith gutter, an hoo at top on us. While
th' tussle lastud hur lad (an th' basturts at took'n his part) keptn
grinin an deetin meh wi sink durt, at aw thought meh een wudn newer ha dun
good agen, for aw moot as weel habin o'er th' yed in a middin's pruce, or
at tayin o' two eawls.
M. Eh, well a day! Whot abundanze o'
misfortins yo hadn.
T. Eigh, for iv owd Nick had owt meh a
spite, he paid meh whom, wi use: for while th' skirmidge lastud, o'th
teawn wur cluttert abeawt us; aw shawmt as iv awd stown summut, an
scampurt away wi a fleigh imeh yeer, an op th' broo into' church yort.
Theer awd a mind t'see iv onny bodily follud meh, an whot te dule dust
think, bon awd lost Nip.
M. Whot senneh?
T. Its true, Meary; so aw code, an aw whewtud
boh no Nip wurt beh fund hee nor lowe, an for o' aw knew meh measter seet
sitch store on hur becose o' fotchin' th' byess an sheep, aw durst as tite
ha taen a bear by th' tooth as to awst seech hur i'th' teawn. So aw
took eendway, for it wur welly neet, an awd had noather bit nor sops, nor
cup o'sneeze ov o' that day.
M. Why yoadn beh as gaunt as a grewant, an welly
T. Aw tell the Meary, awr welly moyart: then aw
thowt meh heart wad ha sunk'n int' meh shoon, for it feld as heavy as a
mustert bo, an aw stank so, it mayd meh as waugish as owt, an awd two or
three wetur-tawns: beside o' this, meh bally wartcht, an i'this fettle aw
munt daddle whom an faze meh measter.
M. Eh deer! Whot on a kynd ov a beawt hadn yo wi
T. Whau awt tellthe moor o'that in neaw, boh th'
fost theaw mun know at awr gooin toart whom as deawn-hearted an
mallancholy as a methody at thinks hes in-pig o' owd Harry, a mon oertook
meh, at wur ridin' o' tit-back, an lyedin another. Thinks awt'
mehsel, this is some Yorshur hawse-jockey, aw wud heed lemmi ride; for
theaw mun know awr wofo weak an waugish. This thought had hardly
glented through meh nob before at th' felley sed, "come honisty, theaw
looks as ivto wur ill toyart, theawst ride a bit ivto will." That's
whot eh want, sed I, iv yo plyesn, for awm welly done. So loothe
Meary, aw geet on, an aw thought aw neer rid yezzier sin eh cud get
humpstridden o' tit-back.
M. A good deed Tummus: that wur no ill
felly; yoadn ha no ill luck at tis beawt, i Goddil.
T. Eh, Meary! theaws een gext rank monnoy
an monney a time, an neaw theaw misses th' bow agen; for aw wood awd riddn
eawr Billy hobby hawse a how day t'gether istid o gettin o' this tit; for
hark the meh, we hadno riddn aboon five rood but th' felly asht meh heaw
far awr gooin' that way? Ses I, abeawt a mile an a hoave; that's
reet, sed he, theers an aleheawse, just theerabeawt, aw'll ride afore, an
theaw mun come sawfly after, an aw'll stey forthe theer. So he sees
off like hey-go-mad, boh aw kept a foot pace, for meh tit swat, an seems
as toyart as aw wur. Neaw, loothe Meary, after this I hadno ridd'n
mitch aboon hawve o'mile boh aw yerd some foke comin afther meh o' gallop
o' gallop as iv the dule had a halloday. They'dn hardly o'erta'en
meh boh one on um sweer by th' mass, "this is my tit," an awll haight too,
iv owd Nick stons i'th gap. Wi that a lusty whether tyke pood eawt a
thing like a piece on a bazzoon, an slappin meh oth shilders weet sed,
friend, awm a cunstable, an theawrt my pris'ner.
The dule ta yur friendship an yur cunstableship too, sed I,
hot dun yo myen mon? whot mun I be a pris'ner for? Theaws stown that
tit sed he, an theawst goo back wimmy afore a justice. Aw stown none
ont, sed I, for aw boh meet neaw gett'n on't, an a mon ats gallop't afore,
whooa aw took furth' o'ner gameh lyev, so whoa bizniz han oather yo or th'
justice wi me? Stuff, stuff, meer bolderdash sed th' cunstable.
Wi that aw leep off, in a great hig, an sed, "int be yoars tak't o' to the
dule, for aw know nowt on't nor yo noather, not I."
M. Well acted Tumrnus, that wur monfully sed, an
done too, think I.
T. Boh husht, Meary, an theawst yer, fur come
"come sed th' cunstable, that whiffo whaffo stuff winno doo for me, for
gooa theaw bwoth mun un shall, oather be hook or crook," an wi that he
pood eawt some eyern trinkums, at ricks like a parcel o' chens.
Weawnds! thinks I t'mehsel, whot ar theese? Iv they bin shackels awm
in a rare scrap indeed, awm wor off neaw thin e'er eh war, awst be hong'd,
or some devilment, at tis very time. For be meh troth Meary, I hated
th' jinglin o' his thingumbobs as ill as iv theaw or ony men elze had bin
ringin meh passin bell.
M. Good lorjus days! its not to tell heaw
camm'd things con happen.
T. Heawe'er aw mustert up meh curridge an
sed, "hark yo measter cunstable, put up thoose things at rick'n so, an ivi
mun gooa, aw will gooa, an quietly too."
M. Whoo—who—whoo—who—whoo! Why, Tummus,
its meet neaw buzz'd into meh yed, at this same hawse-jockey had stown th'
tit, an for fyert o' bein o'erta'en, geet yo t'ride it, t' save his own
beakn, an so put Yorshar on yo o' that'n.
T. Why aw think theaw gexes tooa yure, for
he slipt th' rope fro abeawt his own neck, an don'd it o' mine, that's
sartin. It made pittifo wark indeed, to be gardud beh two men an a
cunstable back agen through Ratchda, wheer awd so lately lost meh bitch,
an bin so mawkinly rowld i' th' riggot, heawe'er theese cunstable foke
wurn meety meeverly an modist too, an as mute an modist as mowdywarps, for
web geetn through th' teawn wi very little gloorin, an less pumpin an wur
at th' justices heawse in a crack.
M. Eh deer Tummus, didno a hawter run
strawngly iyer yed? for summut runs imine as ivtwur full o' ropes an
T. Why, loothe Meary, aw thought so plaugy
hard, at aw cud sattl o' nothin' at o'; for sethe meh aw'r fyertnt o'
macks o' ways. Still awd one cumfurt at olis popt op imeh yed, for
thinks I t'mehsel, aw stown no hawse, not I; an theaw knaws at truth an
honisty gooin hont ihont, howdn one another backs primely, au ston'n as
stiff as a gablock.
M. True Tummus, theyr prime props at a
pinch, that's sartin. Boh aw yammer t'yer heaw things turntn eawt at
th' end ovo.
T. Theaws no peshunce Meary; boh howdte
tung, an theawst yer in a sniff; for theaw mun know at tis same cunstable
wur as preawd at he'd taen poor Tum prisner as iv theawd taen a hare, an
had hur i'the appurn meet neaw. Boh th' gobbin nere consithert at
hangin wuduo be coed good spwort by onybody i'ther senses, an wur enoof
fort edge a finer mon's teeth thin mine. Heawere, he knockt as
bowdly at the justice dur as iv he'd ha dungn it deawn. This fotcht
a preawd groof felly eawt, whooa put us int' a pleck wi as mony books an
peppers as a cart wud howd. To this mon, (whooa aw soon fund eawt
wur th' clark) th' cunstable towd meh case; an i'truth Meary, awr as
gawmliss as a goose, an began o' wackerin as iv awd stown a how draight o'
hawses. Then this felly went eawt abit, an wihim coom th' justice,
whooa aw glendurt at soon, an thought he favort owd Jone o' Dobs at theaw
knows olis wears a breawnish white wig at hongs o' his shilders like ceaw
Well Mester Cunstable, sed th' Justite, whot hanyo brought
Why plyes yur worship, weer meet neaw ta'en a hawse steyler
at wur mayin off with' tit as hard as he cud.
Odd! thought I t'mehsel, neaw or never Tum, spyek for thesel,
or theawrt throttlet at tis very beawt. So aw speek op, an sed,
"That's no true Mr. Justice, for awr boh gooin foots pace."
Umph! sed th' Justice, there's no' witch differance as to
that poynt. Heaweer, howdtee the tung yung mon, an speake when
theawrt spokken too. Well! theaw mon i'th breawn cwot theaw, sed th'
Justice, whot has theaw to say agen this felley? Is this tit thy
It is, Ser.
Heer clark, bring that book an let's swear him.
Th' clark brought th' book, an th' Justice sed a nomony to th'
felley; an towd him he munt tey care o' whot he sed or he moot as helt be
forsworn, or hong that yeawth theer.
Well, an theaw ses at tis tit's thy tit, is it?
It is, plyes yur worship.
An wheer had theaw hen sesto?
Aw bred him, Sur.
I' whot country?
An when wur he stown sesto?
Th' last day boh yesterday, abeawt three o'clock i'th
oandurth, for eawr Yem saigh him abeawt two, an we mistnt him abeawt four
An fro Cown-edge theaw ses?
Then th' Justice turnt him to me an sed, Is o' this true at
this mon ses, yerstomeh?
It is, sed I, th' part ont, an th' part ont isno; for aw
didno steal this tit; nor ist aboon two heawrs sin th' furst time at aw
brad meh een on him.
Heaw coom theawt' beh ridin away wi him then, iv theaw didno
Why i'good deed, sur, as aw'r gooin toart whom to-day a
felley wi a little reawnd hat, an a scrunt wig, th' culler o' yoars welly,
boh shorter, o'ertook meh: he'er ridin o' one tit an lad another; an seein
mayhap at aw'r toyart, becose aw went wigglety-wagglety i'th lone, he
offert meh his lad-tit to ride on. Awr fain o'th proffer, beleemy,
an geet on, boh he rode off whip an spur, tho' he cud hardly mey his tit
ceawnter, an he sed heed stop for meh at an aleheawse i'th road side.
Neaw, Measter Justice, awd no gone three quarters ov a mile boh theese
foke o'ertaen meh; towdn meh awd stown th' tit, an neaw han brought meh
hither as iv aver a Yorshur horse-stealer. And this is o' true,
Mester Justice, or may I ne'er goot t' an ill pleck wheni dee.
M. Primely spokken i'faith, Tummus. Yo meet
shadn wrynot, i'tellin that tale, think I; boh whot sed th' justice then?
T. Whau, he sed, yerstomeh agen, theaw yungster.
Tell meh wheer theaw wur yesterday, specially i'th oandurth, wilto?
Whau, sedi, aw seet eawt fro whom soon i'th yeandurth wia
keaw ana kawve for Ratchda: meh kawve wur killt i'th lone wia tit coack'n
as eh coom; an i'th oandurth aw'r o' up an deawn i'this neyburhood, dooin
meh best t'sell meh bitch at foke coadn a bandybewit, t'see ivi cud may th'
kawve money op for meh measter; boh waes me, e'ery body wur gett'n fittud
wi em; so aw'r kest i'th dark an fworst to stop at Littleboro' o' neet.
An weer hasto bin to-day? sed th' justice.
Whau, sedi, aw maundert op an deawn beerabeawt agen o'th same
sleeveliss arnt; an as aw's gooin whom aw leet o' this felley at aw took
for a horse jockey, an so wur tean op be theese foke for a tit steyler.
Boh hark themeh, theaw pris'ner, sed th' justice, wurno theaw
heer yesterday withe dhog, prithe?
Aw wur, Sur, boh yodn no' buoy hur, for yor'n fittud too.
Whot time o'th day moot it be thinksto?
Between three an four o'clock, sed I.
Beleemy mon, aw think theawrt oather "gryev or gryev-by," sed
he; heer yo master cunstable follow me.
Neaw, Meary, wot dust think? boh while theeso two wurn eawt
abit, that teastril; that tyke ov a clark coed inch aside an proffert
bring meh clear off for hawve a ginney. Sed I, mon iv aw knew at a
hawter munt may meh neck as lung as a gounerneck tomorn, aw cuduo raise
hawve a ginney; for hongd or nohongd I hanno one huwpenny t'save meh meek
wi. Boh, sed he, wilt gi'the note fort? Awil gi no notes not
I, for awd as good t'beh hongd for this job as steyle, an be hongd for
that: an aw no other way to raise it boh steylin, at I know on.
M. Good Lord o' marcy! moor rogues an moor!
Neaw, aught-opo o' sitch teastrils, for ever an a day lunger, say I.
T. Husht! husht! Meary! for neaw th'
justice an th' cunstable coomn in.
M. Eh law! aw'll be hongd mehseln iv eh
dunua dither for fear. Boh goo forrud Tummus.
T. Wham, th' justice, after rubbin his
broo, an droyin his face deawn, sed, here yo measter constable, an yo
felley at owns tis tit, aw mum tell yo at yore bwoth i'th wrong box, an
han gettn th' wrong soo byth' ear; for this yungster heer cudno steyle
this tit th' last oandurth, for between three an four o'clock yusterday aw
seed him heer mehsel; an yo sen this tit wur stowni off Cown-edge abeawt
that time. Neaw he cudno be i' two plecks at one time yo known; so
yersto meh yung mon, aw mun quit thee asto this job, so gothe way whom, an
Aw will, sed I, an thanks Master Justice, for yoan pood truth
eawt ov a durty pleck at lung-length. So aw made him a low bow, an a great
scroap wi meh shoogh, an coom meh way.
M. Bravely comn off Tum; aye, an merrily
too, aw'll uphoudte. Neaw een God bless aw honist aw justices, say
T. Aye, aye, an so say I too; for awd good luck
at th' heel-ovo, or Tum hadno bin heer to ha towdte this tale. Boh
yet, Meary, aw think imeh heart at teers meawse neezes amung sum on um, as
weel as amung other foke, or why shud tis same clack o' his, when he
thought aw'r innocent, proffert' bring meh off for hawve a ginney?
Hadno that a strung savor o' fair chettin, nay deawn reet nippin' o' poor
foke? An dus teaw think at tees justices dunno' know when thoose
tikes playn a hundert wur tricks than this in a yer? Beside, Meary,
aw yard that fawse felley, Dick o' Yems, o' owd Harry's, say at he
knew some on em at wentn snips wi thees catterpillars, theer clarks; an iv
so, shudnno they beh hugg'd o'th same back, and scutcht with same rod as
thr clarks? Yerstomeh?
M. Nawe, nawe, not tey marry! for iv sitch
things munt beh done greandly, an aste oughtn to beh dun, th' bigger
rascot shudha th' bigger smacks an moor onem yo known Tummus. Boh
great foke oft dun whottewin wi littleuns, reet or rank; whot carn they.
So lets lyev sitch to mend when they con hit out; an neaw tell meh heaw yo
wnetn on wi yor mester.
T. Eigh by the miss, Meary; I'd fryetn
that. Why theaw mun know, isitch o' case as tat awd no skuse to may;
so aw towd him heaw th' kawve wur kilt i'th lone, an at awd sowd th' hoyde
for throtteen pence; an then aw cud tell him no moor, for he nipt op th'
deashon at stood o'th harstone, an whirlt it at meh; boh istid o' hittin
meh, it hit th' ryem mug at stoode o'th hob, an keyvt o' ryem intoth
foyer. Then th' battril coom, an whether it lawmt th' barn at war
i'th keythur I knaw no' for aw laft it roorin an bellin; an as awr
scamperin away eawer Seroh asht meh wheer i'wud gooa? aw towd hur at Nicko
o'th farmer great leath wurth next, an awd goo thither.
M. Ov o' spots i'th ward theer woudno I ha cumn
far a yepsintle o' ginnies.
T. Aw geawse theaw myens becose foke sen
boggarts olis hauntud it; boh theaw knows, awr wickitly knoct op, an
fworse is modsn for a mad dhog, as aw towdte afore.
M. It matters no; it wud never ha sunkn into me
t' harbort theer.
T. Well boh aw went, an just as awr gettn toth'
leach dur, whooa shudeh meet boh Yed, their new mon.
M. That leet weel; for Yed's as greadly a lad as
needs t'knep th' hem ov a cake.
T. True; so aw towd him meh case, i'short, an
soory he lookt too. Aw wish idurst let-te lie wimeh sed he, boh as aw boh
coom to wun heer this day sennit, aw darno venter. But awll show the
a prime mough o' hay, an theaw may doo meeterly frowt aw know.
Thattle doo, sed I, show it meh, for awm stark an ill dun. So while
heer sbowin it meh wi a scoance, he sed aw summut tell the Tum, boh awm
loath. Theaw myens abeawt th' boggarts sed I, boh awm likt' venter.
Theaws meet hit it, sed he; an aw con tell the, aw cud like meh pleek
primely boh for that. Heaweer as th' tits mun eawt very arly, aw mun
provom um abeawt one o'clock, an awll coe t'see heaw theaw gwos on.
Sblid, sed I, if theaw mun eawt so arly, awll fother an proven th' tits
forthe, an theaw may sleep iftle, lay th' provon reddy. That awll
doo, an thank the too, sed Yed. Then he sbowd meh heaw th' mough wur
cut wia bay-knife th' hawve way deawn, like a great step; an at aw moot
come off yezzily o' that side; so web biddn th' tone tother good neet.
Awr boh meet sattlt, when iyerd summut i'th leath. Good lorgus,
Meary! meh flesh crept o'meh bwons, an meh yers cracknt ages wi' harknin.
Presently aw yard sumbody coe sawfly, "Tummus! Tummus!" Aw knew th'
voyce, an sed, whoos-tat! tee Seroh? Eigh, sed hoo, an aw stown a
loyte wetur porritch, an sum thrutchins, an a trecle butter-cake iv yo con
eyght um. Fear meh not, sed I, for awm as hongry as a rottn.
Whau, mitch goodeet o' wi um,sed ho, an yo may come an begin, for they
needn no keelin. Neaw awr isitch a flunter igettin toth' meat, at
awd fryetn th' spot at Yed towd meh on; so aw feel deawn off th' heest
side o'th mough, an sitch a floose o'hay follud meh, at it drove meh
shoyer deawn, an Seroh, with' meat in hur hont a top o' meh, an quite
hilld us bwoth.
M. Cots fish! that wur a nice trick, o'th bukth
T. Eigh, sot wur; boh it leeit weal at th'
porritch wurno scoadin; for when wedn made shift to heyve an creep fro
unther, sum o'th porritch aw fund had dawbt op tone o'meh neen; th'
thrutchins wurn shed o'th waist bant o'meh breeches, an th' trecle butter
cake stickt to Seroh brat. Heaweer, wi scrawmin abeawt, weh geetn op
whot weh cudn, an aw eet it snap; for, beleeme Meary, awr so keen bitn, aw
made no bawks at a hay seed. So while awr bizzy cadgin meh wheme, he
towd meta hoo lippnt hur feythur wur turnt striacklin, an iv aw went whom
ogen awst beh i'dawnger o' bein breant; at meh dame wud ha mebt run, for
aw shudbeh lose at Feersun-een, an it mattert no mitch. Aw thought
this wur good ceawnsil, so aw axt Seroh t' fotch meh meh tother sark; hoo
did so, an aw thankt hur; bid hur fareweell, an so we parted. Aw
soon sattlt mehseln i'th mough unther a floose o' hay, an slept so weel,
at wheni wacknt, awr fyert at i'd oerslept mehseln, an cudno provon th'
M. It wur weel for yo at yo cudn sleep at o',
for awst neer ha laid meh een together awm shure.
T. Whau, boh aw startud op to goo toth' tits, an
slurr'd deawn th' lower part o'th mough, an bi-the maskins, whot dusto
think, boh aw lees humpstriddn summut at feld meety hury: an it startud op
wimeh on it back; deawnth th' lower part o'th haymough it jumpt, crosst th'
leath, eawt o'th dur wimeh it took, an intoth' weaterin poo, as iv th'
verra dule had driven it; an theer it threw meh in, or elze aw feel off,
aw conno tell whether for th' life on meh.
M. Whoo—o; whoo—o; whoo; whot i'th name o' marcy
T. Say? Why aw say true as th' Gospil;
aver so fryetnt, aw'r war set to get eawt (if possible) thin iwur when Nip
an me feln off th' bridge.
M. Aw never yerd sitch tales sin meh name wur
Mall, nor no won elze, think I.
T. Tales!—Odds bud; tak um o'tgether, an theydn
welly may a mont ston o'th wrang eend.
M. Well boh, wur it owd Nick? thinkn yo, or it
T. Aw hate tawk obeawt it; wilt howd te tung; iv
it wurno owd Nick, he wur th' ortherer ont, to beh shure.
M. Why, Tummus, preyo, whot wur it?
T. Bless meh, Meary, theawrt so yearnstful, at
teawll nolet meh tell meh tale. Why aw didno know mehsel whot it wur
ov an heawer aftber; iv iknow yet.
M. Well boh heaw wentn yo on then?
T. Whau, wi witch powlerin aw geet eawt o'th poo,
an behmeh troth, lieve meh asto list, aw cudno tell whether awr in a
sleawm or wakn till eh gropt at meh een. An as awr resolvt to goo no
moor intoth' leath aw crope under a wough, an stoode like a gawmblin or a
parfit neatril till welly day, an just then, Ned coom.
M. That wur passin weel consitherin th' case at
T. True lass; for aw think awr never fainer
t'see nobody sin awr kersunt.
M. Whot sed Yed?
T. Whau, he heeve op his honds; an be blest; an
lhe prayd; an made sitch marlooks, at iv I'd no bin i'that wofo pickle
awst ha brosen wi leawin. Then he asht meh heaw aw coomt beh so weet?
an why istoode teer? an sitch like. Aw towd him aw cud gi no
acceawnt o' mehsel boh at awr carrid eawt o'th leath beh owd Nick, as aw
M. Awd olis a notion whot it wud proov i'th heel
T. Prithe howd te tung a bit—theaw puts meh eawt.
Aw towd him aw thought it wur owd Nick, for it wur vast strung, very hury,
an meety swift.
M. Eh, whot a great marcy it is, at yoar wheer
yo ar Turnmus.
T. Eigh Meary, so 'tis; for it's moor nor I
expectud; boh theawst yer. Yed wur so flayd with bit at aw towd him,
at he geet meh bith' hont, an sed, come Tummus, let's flit fro this pleck;
for my part awll no stay one minnit lenger. Sed I, intle fotch meh
sark eawt o'th leath awll goo withe. Nay, sed he, that awll never
doo while my name's Yed. Whau, sid I, then awm liket gooa beawt it.
Dunno trubble the nob obeawt tat; aw two a'whom, an awll githe th' tone;
come, let's beh off, sed he. So weern marchin away, boh afore weedn
gone five rood, aw seed summut, an seet op a greyt reeok (for aw thought
awd seen owd Nick agen.) Lord bless us, says Yed, what arto breed wi neaw,
Tummus? Aw poyntud th' finger, an sed, isno tat to dule?
Which, sed he? That under the hedge, sed I? Nawe, nawe, no it;
that's eawer yung cowt at lies heawt, sed Yed. Th' dickens it is,
sed I; bo aw think imeh heart at tat carrid eawt o'th leath. Then
Yed axt meh iv th' dur wur opnn? Aw towd him aw thought it wur.
Boh awm shure aw toynt it, sed Yed. That moot be sed I, for afther
theaw laft meh eawer Serohl browt meh meh supper, an hoo moot lyev it oppn.
By th' miss, sed Yed, iv so Tum, this very cowt'll proov th' boggart;
let's intoth' leath an see, for it's no so dark ast wur. Wi o' meh
heart, sed I, boh let's stick toth' tone tother hont then. A thisn
wee wentn intoth' leath, an bimeh truth, Meary, aw knowno' whot think;
thur wur a yepsintle o' cowt dung opoth lower part o'th hay-mough, an th'
pleck whear it had line, as plain as a pike staff. Boh still, iv
twur it at carrid meh, aw marvil heaw aw cud stick on so lung, it wur
isitch a hurry to get away.
M. Whet te firups it signrifies nowt, for
whether yo sticknt on or feln off, aw find at eawer owd Nick wur th' cowt
at lies reawt.
T. Whau, aw conno say a dyel abeawt it; it looks
likely as teaw says. Bob iv this worno a boggart aw think thur never
wur noan, iv teydn bin reetly siftud intoo.
M. Marry, awm mitch iyoare mind neaw. Boh
hark yo! didn yo leet oyur sark?
T. Eigh, eigh; I haight imeh pockit sithe; for
it's boh meet neaw ot itook meh lyev o' Yed, all neaw theaw sees awm
runnin' meh cuntry.
M. An whot dunyo thinkt' doo?
T. Aw think awst be an osler, for aw con mexn,
keem, an fettle tits as weel as onny one on um o'; tho theaw may think awm
M. Nay, aw con believe o'. Bohb, eh law!
whet a cank han wee had! aw munna eemt'stay onny lunger. God be wi
yo! for aw mun away.
T. Howd—nay Meary—lemmi ha one smeawtch at
partin, for theawrt noan sitch afeaw mean noather.
M. Nay—heaw—so—Tummus; goo theaw an smeawtch
Seroh o' Rutchot's iv yo bin so kipper.
T. Why neaw—heaw spitefo tbeaw art. Whot
iv a body doo like Seroh; theers nobody boh the likn sumbody.
M. Eigh, true Tummus; boh then sumbody likes
T. Aw geawse whot-te myens; for theawrt glentin
at tat flopper-meawtht gob-slotch, Bill o' owd Katty's, becose at foke sen
Seroh hankers afther him; aw marvil whot-te dule hoo con see ihim; awm mad
M. Like enoof; for its a feaw life to luv thoose
at luvn other foke. Boh yoar a ninnyhommer t'heed hur; for theers
noan sitch farrantly tawk obeawt hur.
T. Why whot dun the say?
M. Aw menno tell,—beside yoadn haply tay't noan
so weel iv a body shud.
T. Whau, all conno beh angurt at-tee chuz whottoses, as lung asto boh
harms afther other foke.
M. Why then they sen at hoos a mawkinly,
dagg'd-skirtud, wanton wean—an—an—
T. An whot Meary? speyk eawt.
M. Why, to be plain wi yo, they sen at hur
moother catcht Bill o' owd Katty's an Seroh together th' last Sunday
T. Eh, the div—(good Lord bless us) is tat true.
M. True? heaw shud it be other-ways? for hur
mother wur cryin an soughin to meh dame th' last Munday yeandurth obeawt
T. Sflesh, Meary! aw fit cruttle deawn intoth'
yerth; awd leefer ha taen forty eawls.
M. Why lookit neaw; awm een soory fort; Lord
help it; will it topple o'er? Munni howd it yed, while heart brasts
T. Eh, Meary! theaw little gawms heaw it
thrutches meh plucks; for iv t'did, theaw no may a hobbit on meh.
M. Neaw, imeh good troth, aw con hardly howd meh
unlaighit, t'see heaw fast yo ar i'luv's clutches. Boh aw thought
awd try yo.
T. Meary! whot dusto myen.
M. Why, aw towd a parcil o'thumpin lies o'
purpus t' pump o'.
T. The dickons taythe, Meary!—Whot an awkert
wean art-teaw! Whot th' pleague didt flay meh a thisn for?
Theawrt a weant lass—awd leefer ha gon an arnt forty mile.
M. Eigh, a huntert, reyther thin ha had it ha
bin true; boh aw thought awd try yo.
T. Well! an iv aw dunno try thee, titter or
latter, ittle be a marvil.
M. It's a greyt marcy yo conno doo it neaw for
cruttlin deawn. Boh aw mun away, for iv meh dame be comn whom
ther'll be rickin'. Well! think on at yoadn reyther ha taen forty
T. Awst think on at teaw looks a bit whiskey,
chuz whot Seroh o' Rutchot's dus.
M. Aw yerd um say at gexin akin to lyin; an at
proof o'th puddin's i'th eatin. So fare the weel, Tummus.
T. Meary. Farethe weel heartily; am gimeh
luv to Seroh, let leet heawt will.
M. Winyo forgimeh then?
T. By th' miss willi, Meary, froth bottom o' meh